Cornerstone
by enchantedink13
Summary: "Neal is still standing in the doorway, staring longingly after his father, when El ascends the stairs to his apartment." In which El and Peter remind Neal that, no matter how many people leave, he will always have a family waiting for him.


**Cornerstone**

Neal is still standing in the doorway when El ascends the stairs to his apartment, a cooler in her hands, and she pretends that she isn't unsurprised to see him still staring longingly after his father out into the hallway. "Neal," she smiles brightly. She holds out the cooler and is about to say more, but the words die on her tongue when she takes a real look at his face.

She had expected him to be a little mellow; after all, in just one week he'd discovered that he had a family that he thought betrayed him, realized that he hadn't been betrayed at all, and then lost it all, in spite of everything, again. What she hadn't expected was to see Neal - Neal, who was always composed and grinning and _fine_ - standing there, tears running down his cheeks, looking for all the world like the lost little boy that, at his heart, he still was.

When he sees her, though, Neal tries to plaster his trademark grin across his face, as if it can cover the rawness she's just witnessed. His smile doesn't waver, because he's a conman, one of the best, but his eyes are full of heartbreak and loss, and when coupled with that smile, it makes his grief even more apparent. He's a scared boy in a man's body.

And El feels like an intruder, because she knows Neal has never meant anybody to see him like this, so she refocuses her gaze on the cooler and extends it further towards him. "I brought you some pistachio gelato."

"Thanks." Neal is quick, almost too quick, to give El a one-armed hug, and she wonders if he's trying to keep her from seeing his face.

Sure enough, when he lets go, he turns away to the fridge with the cooler fast, and he stays obscured behind the door for a little too long as he rummages around unnecessarily in the freezer. It reminds El of the last time she brought him this dessert, how that time he was making noise to hide the truth from Sam, and now James is gone and he's left just trying to hide himself.

Neal emerges, finally, and he turns around, away from her, and walks out to the balcony, resting his arms on the concrete ledge and looking out over the city. El follows him and stands just behind him, so close that she's almost next to him, but she knows he doesn't want to be visible, and she lets him keep it that way.

"I never really apologized for starting this. Ratting you out to Peter. I didn't mean to spy."

"You're married to an agent. You can't help it." Neal adds a chuckle at the end, but it sounds weak and painful.

"I'm sorry, Neal."

"It's not _your _fault this is happening." And it's clear from his tone whose fault he does think it is.

"Neal, you can't feel responsible for things that happened when you were a child."

His back seems to tighten. "I can feel responsible for things that are happening now." He turns his head and rubs his cheek against his arm.

"You're not the reason why James isn't safe here."

"Maybe not," Neal says slowly, "but it's true that I put everyone around me in danger."

"You know that's not true." El steps forward, because even when you've been estranged from a man for years, your father will always be your father, and when it comes to matters of family, you're always really still a child, no matter how many priceless pieces of art you've flawlessly forged. She places her hand on his shoulder, and Neal tenses at first, but after a moment his muscles go slack and hopeless again, and she rubs small circles over his shoulder blade.

"Is it?" Neal asks, and for a second she wonders if she didn't just imagine his voice catching. "Because what I know is that terrible things happen to everyone who comes close to me. Kate burned to death in a plane because of me. She could have been happily married to Michael in Chicago right now, with the three kids she always wanted, but instead she's dead, and that's because of me. Mozzie got shot because of me. Peter got kidnapped by Keller. _You_ got kidnapped by Keller."

Neal pauses, and his voice is broken when he whispers, "Ellen died because of me."

El knows that he's finally uncovered his real fear. "Sweetie, Ellen didn't die because of you. She died because of some corrupt cops who were breaking the law long before you knew what the law was."

Neal lowers his head onto his arms, and El wants to hug him, but she knows that if she does, he'll remember that he's Neal Caffrey, and that he's always fine, and he'll lose the chance to say these things that he's clearly been too afraid to say until now.

"If I hadn't stolen the Nazi treasure, nobody would have ever found her. She'd be safe right now. She'd be gardening in her front yard."

It's true, and El knows that that doesn't make it Neal's fault, but she also knows that it's no use to tell Neal this, because it won't change what it feels like.

"Ellen was like my mother," Neal finally whispers. "And I only just found my father, and now I have to let him walk out my door. _Again_. And this time I know that he might not come back."

Neal raises his head and turns to look at El, his face bathed in the glowing yellow light from the apartment and streaked with tears. "And then who will I have left?"

_You'll have us._

And because she can't say those words aloud without embarrassing him, El folds Neal into her arms and kisses his hair and tries to pour all the mother in her into their embrace and hopes that it will be enough.

They stand there in the cool night air until Neal can breathe again with choking on it, and then she lets go of him and they go back inside and eat gelato and drink wine. And even though the grief doesn't leave Neal's eyes, the fear is gone, and El tells herself that she will never again allow him to forget that he will never be without a family.

* * *

The next morning, out on June's balcony again, Peter stares at Neal over his newspaper, and Neal sips his coffee and pretends that he doesn't notice. For an agent, Peter isn't spying very surreptitiously this morning.

Finally, Peter clears his throat, opens his mouth - and then snaps it shut again, ducking his head back down behind his newspaper.

Peter is terrified of talking about feelings, so Neal takes pity on him and reaches over, pulling down the corner of _The New York Times_ so that Peter can get this over with and stop hiding behind the Sports section.

"Something you'd like to say?" Neal asks, grinning. As much as he knows that he shouldn't take advantage of what is probably Peter's only fear, he can't help but be amused at how uncomfortable and truly intimidated Peter looks.

"I know you're having a rough time," Peter begins, staring down into his coffee mug instead of at Neal. The words sound misplaced and stiff, coming from Peter's mouth, and Neal is fairly certain that this is something El has put him up to.

"We got Flynn behind bars," Neal disagrees. "This has been a good week." It's a con - from his broad smile all the way to how the corners of his eyes crinkle to match - but the substance of the con is flimsy and false, and they both know it.

To both their surprise, though, Peter doesn't take the out that Neal is freely offering. Instead, he lays down his newspaper and meets Neal's eyes, his gaze sincere and honest. "You have people that care about you."

The words are an echo from a stormy day in a cold, gray hangar - a plea for Neal not to run. Hearing them then had been like a revelation - a force that shifted his entire world and made him realize that, for the first time, he had something worth staying for.

Peter must be remembering the same moment, because he adds gruffly, "Don't make me remind you again."

James has come and gone in such a wrecking whirlwind that Neal hasn't been able to decide whether a father that he can't have without endangering is better or worse than a father that doesn't exist at all - and as a man whose world has always been temporary, Neal hates that he doesn't know, hates that he won't be able to anticipate regret until it's too late and he's already drowning in it.

But Peter's words reaffirm to Neal that the cornerstones he's come to depend upon - El and June and even Diana and Jones - are still solid. Neal thinks it's the first time he's known this, for sure, about anybody. His mother turned empty and hollow before his eyes after James left, Ellen was never quite the same thing as a mom, Kate was a shadow of a white-picket fence dream Neal knew he couldn't have, and Mozzie… even Mozzie had been ready to leave him in Cape Verde.

But these new people, these suits and colleagues and friends, they have never left, and Neal finally realizes that they're not going to.

This time, the smile he gives Peter is honest, and the whispered _thank you_ that accompanies it is possibly the truest thing that Neal's ever said to him.

"El wants you over for dinner," Peter says, looking at Neal with some caution.

Neal knows that Peter's being wary because they're both aware of how much Neal hates being pitied, but for the first time, Neal's reply isn't a con, because this isn't pity, it's love, and it's a family who wants him.

"Are you going to be doing the cooking?"

"Absolutely not," Peter answers, fast, and there's relief in both their faces.

"Then I'll be there." Neal laughs wholeheartedly across the table at Peter, and it's a joyful sound that dips far down into Neal's chest and warms them both.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review?


End file.
